


I Am Half a Soul Divided

by Emotionalhyperbole



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst and Feels, Background Character Death, Backstory, Based on my own experiences with having Tourette's Syndrome bc it's self-insert hours babey!!, Canon Rewrite, Character Study, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Dinners, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feels, Fluff, Hair Dyeing, Haircuts, Heart-to-Heart, I renamed the cat "Manny" because I'm sentimental, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Making shit up about the relic because I can, Minor Original Character(s), Nomad V (Cyberpunk 2077), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Physical Disability, Rating May Change, Scars, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Soft Johnny Silverhand, Some Humor, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Tourette's Syndrome, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionalhyperbole/pseuds/Emotionalhyperbole
Summary: All you wanted from Night City was a shot at finding your brother.What you ended up with was a ticking time bomb in your head, hollowing you out from the inside and rewriting your very existence.You thought you'd find your saving grace in a city full of opportunities, so you suppose the joke's on you. But you have a plan, and you think you might just be able to fix this.(V, you gonk, there is a wide, wide world out there full of surprises you have yet to uncover. A brain parasite in the shape of one Johnny Silverhand is only the beginning.)
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & Male V, Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/Male V, Johnny Silverhand/V, Misty Olszewski & V, V & Jackie Welles, V & Mama Welles (Cyberpunk 2077)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. Getting so loud, I can't pretend that I don't hear 'em

**Author's Note:**

> All of the canon endings make me sad and empty inside and I write stories to cope with bullshit brain rot/trauma lmao. Here, have the first chapter of my rewrite that I will hopefully finish one day, but who knows?
> 
> Also: teeny tiny warning for the very start, I do mention throwing up, but not in detail, just in case that kinda stuff irks you!

You empty your guts all over the side of the railing, the only thing you can hear above your own dry heaving being the door of your motel room shutting behind you. Johnny's saying- well, he's saying _something_ , though you honestly can't make it out over the sound of your own heartbeat. He's yelling, or at least getting there, and your ears ring and it's all just _too much._  
  
You almost biff it on the ground and embarrass yourself further as you run down the staircase. Your hands are shaking as you pull the keys in your bag out, fingertips numb with increasingly poor circulation. Your body works on autopilot to pull on a pair of goggles and get on your bike- _Jackie's_ bike.  
  
You haven't seen him since you went and dropped off Manny at his place three days ago, the cat needing someone to feed him while you're out doing what you do. He says he's happy with the way things panned out, that he's ok with that heist being his last, says mercenary work was maybe never really meant for him, anyway.  
  
But you see the pain he's in. Some things not even cybernetics can fix, at least not for cheap, and _definitely_ not for the likes of you and Jackie. The bullets he took tore his lower spine to shreds, leaving him mostly immobile from the waist down with what little Vik could do.  
  
You try not to shatter as you ride his bike back towards the city, Badlands and the motel and Hellman far behind you as the moon rises higher and higher into the sky. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it goes down like shards of glass, and your eyes start to water behind your goggles.  
  
"Fuck," You curse, swerving to the side of the road, onto the dirt as you hit the brakes. You lose just enough momentum to not _die_ before hopping off the bike and pulling the goggles off, letting both of them fall against a dried up bush as you stumble around, unable to even _pace_ properly.  
  
_"Fuck!"_ You hiss through gritted teeth as you fold in on yourself, crumpling until you're crouching on your toes and holding your hands behind your head, forehead against your knees to hide the tears that refuse to stop flowing.  
  
You whimper pathetically, sobbing so hard you can't stop anymore, shoulders shaking as you push your hair out of your face and cover your mouth with your own palm. You can't remember the last time you cried, much less _like this._ You can barely breathe, part of you wanting to scream until you can't anymore.  
  
More than anything, though, you want to go _home_ \- but you can't. You know that your clan's long since merged with Snake Nation, that your parents went with them, but you stayed behind. You thought you'd find your brother, maybe even bring him back home, eventually. Start in Night City, find the right people to ask, keep heading east if all else fails.  
  
It _has_ failed, just... not in the way you thought it might. You want to call your parents, but you don't know how to face them like this.  
  
There's a sound of static crackling, like an old tv starting up, and you know Johnny's there. He's probably watching you, ready to scoff or tell you to get a move on, that your meltdown can wait for when he doesn't have to be around to witness it. You fall to your knees fully, sniffling as you run both hands through your hair and try to breathe properly. In, hold, out, hold. You can do this.  
  
"Gimme a sec' and we'll-" You start, clearing your throat and wiping your face off on your gloves. "We can- I..."  
  
You force a deep, steadying breath into your stuttering lungs, tilting your head back to look up at an uncaring sky. When you look back down, Johnny's leaning against a rock to your left, closer than before. His arms are crossed, head bowed. He looks almost... apologetic. You can't help but stare at his profile, unaffected by the moonlight shining behind him. Sometimes you can forget that he isn't really _there_. Sometimes you can forget that he isn't killing you. Just not right now.  
  
"I'm dying," You say after a while, once you're breathing normally again. It sounds like a confession with the way you whisper it. You're seemingly the last person to actually get that memo. "I'm dead."  
  
"Join the club," Johnny jokes, but it's halfhearted at best, and really just makes you feel worse because he's here _too_. He's in this with you, whether he wants to be or not, and you've never even considered how _he_ feels about all of this.  
  
"What's- uh," You wet your chapped lips. _God_ , you need some water. "What's it like? In- in my skin."  
  
Johnny angles his head to look at you better, though his hair still obscures most of his face. He seems to contemplate for a bit, appraising you at the same time. You wonder what he sees.  
  
"You're shorter than me by, like, six inches, so everything feels weirdly sized. You've got ADHD like no one I've ever known, and your thoughts are pretty much a mess 24/7. Your driving scares me shitless. Solid taste in music, though," He tells you, listing off the points like he's been keeping track of them- which, well, maybe he has. Not like he can really do much else. You chuckle anyway, hearing the scathing words for what they really are: an olive branch, an apology and a promise, a bandaid slapped over a gaping wound with a hand held out to offer companionship.  
  
"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."  
  
Johnny's laugh makes you smile, and you think you might just be able to handle the expiration date on your brain a little better tonight because of it.


	2. Though I'll never know your name, I'll cry for you the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: mentions of suicide, as well as suicidal ideation.

You decide to walk back to your apartment after going to Judy's. There's blood all over the front of your clothes, but seeing as it's Night City, nobody thinks twice, simply giving you a wide berth as you make your way down the streets towards Megabuilding H10. You clench your fingers around the pendant in your pocket, thumbing over the bullet. There's irony to be found in the whole situation, somewhere. Probably. Maybe you're seeing parallels where there are none.  
  
The scar in your hairline says otherwise, especially when you look in the mirror after getting back and putting your clothes to wash. Looking at your hair, you try to distract yourself with the state of it. It's starting to get long again. Almost as long as Evelyn's. You pull out a pair of scissors from your drawer and start cutting.  
  
"Why not just pay someone to cut it for you?" Johnny asks from the doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed.  
  
"Don't trust strangers to come near my head with scissors," You reply automatically. He shrugs, and continues to watch as you trim your bangs, then the sides. When you get to the back, he watches as you fumble with the mirrors until you can see it better, chuckling at your struggle.  
  
"Little more off the left- no, _your_ left," He advises, and you can't stop the grin from tugging at your lips. He actually proves to be very helpful, and your hair looks arguably better than it has in years. You rinse the hair from your sink, off of the scissors. You're internally thankful that you didn't bother with a shirt, or else your impromptu haircut would've left you with even more laundry. As it stands, your pants are the only thing you'll have to change.  
  
You comb through your hair, leaning towards the mirror to eye the roots. There's about an inch, maybe more, of dark brown beginning to show through, fading into the neon red that you always dye it. You sigh, and take out a box of the stuff from the stash you keep under your sink.  
  
"And here I thought you were a _natural_ redhead."  
  
You snort at Johnny's sarcasm, looking over your shoulder at him as you mix together the dye, pouring it into the bottle of chemicals that comes with every package. You shake it up, pull on a pair of latex gloves, and start going to town.  
  
By the end of it, there's dye on your ears and shoulders, your hair slicked back as you clean up your mess and let the colour take. The red is too bright, too pink to be anything but dye, yet as it runs down the sink, your mind substitutes it for something more sinister. You think of arterial blood, bright red and vibrant from where it's closest to the surface.  
  
Twenty minutes later and you're in the shower, rinsing off and washing the grime out from the cracks in your skin, cleaning off the lines of cybernetics running up and down your arms, around your eyes. Most of your calves, as well as your knees, are completely artificial at this point. Shit's expensive, but you tell yourself it's a worthy price to pay for joints that don't ache 24/7 with the threat of one day giving out entirely. The machinery on the backs of your lower legs is covered by fiberglass, meaning you don't have to do anything specific to clean it.  
  
Leaving the shower, you pull on yet another pair of pants, then sit down on your bed. Your head lands on your palms and stays there. Everything is quiet and still, disturbed only by the occasional twitch of your body. It's funny, honestly, how far modern medicine and technology has come, yet there's still virtually nothing to be done for your Tourette's. Vik may be the best ripper you know, and the little implant he gave you to suppress the tics might just be the greatest thing you've ever had shoved into your brain, but nothing can change your genetics, nor your neurology. You gave up on trying to do just that a long time ago.  
  
"Thinkin' yourself into a hole over there."  
  
Johnny's voice is a welcome break from the white noise of the city, as well as the sounds from outside your apartment door. You lay back down on the bed with a sigh, unable to pinpoint exactly what it is you're feeling, and even more nebulously: _why?_  
  
"S'what I do best," You reply nonchalantly, shrugging where you lie on top of your sheets. You absent-mindedly run your fingers over the scars on your lower abdomen, the ones on either side of your hips. The one inside your bellybutton is mostly covered by a piercing now, though it sometimes still itches, much like the ones running up and down your arms and thighs.  
  
The amount of work you've put into your body is likely up there with some of the Corpos you pass by on the streets everyday. The only difference there is that your work was done out of necessity, to become the person you were meant to be. _They_ do it for the exact opposite reason, to escape the things they deemed to be flaws by becoming someone else entirely.  
  
 _Shit_. Maybe you're not so different after all.  
  
Johnny sighs and materialises next you, leaning against the wall by your bed. He doesn't look at you for a moment, tossing his glasses off to disappear before they hit the floor as he turns his head to look at you.  
  
"Who was it?" He asks. You know what he means without him having to even clarify. _Who was it you saw in that woman's face? Who did you think about when you carried Evelyn's lifeless body to her bed? Who did you lose?_  
  
"Myself," You answer, and Johnny's eyebrow raises. You sigh, rub the heels of your palms against your eyes to try and regain some semblance of control.  
  
"When that heist went to shit, I..." You start to explain, dropping your hands to the bed as you stare up at the ceiling. "I thought Jackie was gonna die. Thought I was gonna lose him. Thought that meant I'd lose everyone else too. Like T-Bug."  
  
Johnny turns around to lean against the windowsill and stare out at the city.  
  
"I know I didn't end up losin' him, but I didn't know that at the time, so..." You sigh and shut your eyes. "So when DeShawn pointed his gun at me, all I could think about was how much of a relief it would be. No more pain, no more searching, no nothin'."  
  
You sit upright, leaning forward on your elbows and staring at the floor as numbness takes hold and makes you feel nothing at all. Dissociating has always been your body's coping mechanism of choice.  
  
"Woke back up in a junkyard and just felt... angry. Tried crawling towards the voices I could hear, and the only thing I cared about was finding a gun to finish the job properly."  
  
All is quiet again, and you're unsure if it's helpful or not. It doesn't last long, however- never does when Johnny's around. He breathes heavily enough for his shoulders to rise and fall noticeably when you turn to look at his back.  
  
"For what it's worth, I think I'm pretty glad you didn't. 'Finish the job,' I mean," He tells you, tone full of hesitation and uncertainty. Not about the honesty of his statement, no, you can _feel_ that for sure. His trepidation comes from voicing an opinion without rage for once, from telling you the truth and subsequently admitting to having a spot of softness in him. You knew as much, already. Of course you did. It's still nice to be reminded of it every once in awhile, however.  
  
"Me too," You agree easily, without hesitation. Your only concern comes from the fact that it's the truth.  
  
This whole situation would be so much easier if you hadn't found something to live for, and easier still if it wasn't the very man that's slowly but surely killing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never know how to describe a character's appearance without it feeling incredibly forced and ham-fisted, so this probably reads a little weirdly, sorry :/
> 
> But alas, I hope you enjoyed the second chapter, and I hope you're prepared for the softness that's in store with the next one!


	3. Hold my hand to keep me steady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised softness, so here it is :')

The data's been sitting on your computer for days now, already decrypted and ready for reading. Whatever's on there, Evelyn had been guarding it closely. You know you should open it. You know there might be valuable information on there that could help you, but...  
  
You already feel like shit for having taken it out of the poor woman's head when you were only supposed to be saving her. You feel like you're violating her trust. You feel like you're violating _Judy's_ trust. You feel like it's already too late for that.  
  
You take a deep breath, release it slowly. There's no time like the present, so you open the file labelled "RELIC" before you can lose your nerve.  
  
The first thing that catches your eye is a picture of Johnny himself, black-and-white and more like a mugshot than anything. Right next to the picture is some basic information: date of birth, date of death, full name...  
  
" _Robert_ ," You chuckle quietly. That name will never fail to make you grin, something so _normal_ for a man so... well, anything _but_. You hear the sound of static from somewhere behind you, notice the feeling that always comes with Johnny materialising nearby.  
  
" _Rowan_ ," He shoots back, and the smile falls from your face a little bit. You wonder when he figured out your real name, and why on earth he hadn't even mentioned it up until now. "Didn't feel like I'd earned the privilege to call you that, yet. But since you're basically looking through my birth certificate, I'd say I get a free pass. Just this once."  
  
That makes you grin, full of pleasant surprise and a sense of... _mutual respect_ , you think. "Just this once," You agree, and click to the next page of his entry. This one is more along the lines of a medical report, summaries of tests and vitals making their way onto the computer screen. Most of it's recognisable enough to you, seeing as you already know your fair share of what Jackie's always referring to as "medical jargon."  
  
That is, until you get to the fifth page, skipping past a couple that don't tell you much. This part of the document has what appears to be the blueprints to some sort of container, the words "cryogenic freezing" and "stable condition" appearing more than once. You start to feel a little bit of nervousness bubble up in your chest until it threatens to burst from your ribcage. Johnny doesn't seem to be faring much better, a familiar sense of mounting rage nipping at the heels of your own emotions in a way that is distinct to him.  
  
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" He all but whispers, his fists clenching so hard your own hands follow suit.  
  
"They're keeping the bodies," You mutter, scrolling over to what looks like a still taken from some security footage, capturing the image of _Johnny's body_ in that container, presumably just before being slotted into a massive shelf that houses more of the same boxes.  
  
You read the rest of the document at lightning speed, chills running down your spine as you see words like "personality reprogramming" and "memory altering." All you can think about is the fact that Arasaka's apparently not even above crimes against nature for the sake of _propaganda_.  
  
You click out of the file as soon as you hear a knock at your door. You stay still and silent for a moment, fearing for the worst. You _swear_ you'd secured everything, that no one should be able to track anything you do on your computer, but what if-  
  
"V? You there? It's Misty."  
  
You sigh a breath of relief as you stand up, walking over to the door and opening it.  
  
"Hey," You greet, opening your arms and meeting Misty halfway for a hug. "What's up?"  
  
"Jackie says you've been cooped up a lot lately, asked me to come pick you up for dinner at the Coyote," She answers, pulling away and patting your shoulders. Her hands stay there for a moment as she looks you over, head to toe. "No offence, but you look like you need it."  
  
You laugh a little, warmth settling in your chest at the thought of being cared for like this. You certainly understand where she's coming from, however. You feel exhausted, run-down and on edge at all times. The dark circles beneath your eyes have been looking darker, more sunken, and your skin is even paler than it usually is. Just thinking about food reminds you of how hungry you are.  
  
"You know what? I'd like that."  
  
Misty smiles up at you, and her hands move down your arms to grab your hands and pull you along, allowing you to lock the door before leading you to the elevator. She doesn't let go of your hand, and you can feel how warm her skin is against yours. You don't know how she does it, but something about Misty somehow manages to always exude _kindness_ , to the point where something as minute as her natural body heat is enough to put you at ease.  
  
"Jack's been reviving the old kitchen behind the bar," Misty says as you descend in the elevator. "Looked like it hadn't been touched in years, but now it's almost always alive."  
  
"Yeah? He been cooking?"  
  
"Practically non-stop. He's thinking of expanding the Coyote's menu to serve meals, too!"  
  
The trip to the bar is filled with the sound of Misty's voice as she catches you up on seemingly a lifetime worth of news. She tells you all about Jackie, first, how he's getting better at being up on his feet for longer periods of time. She says he's started working out again, slowly but surely getting his strength back, at least in his upper body. He's still mostly wheelchair-bound, still can't take the stairs on his own, and all that, but... he's smiling again, Misty tells you, and there's a wordless agreement passed between the two of you. Jackie's not Jackie without a smile- if it's back, then so is he.  
  
The Coyote is usually busy at this time of day, but it seems to be closed for now. The lights are all off, but Misty walks right in anyway. She leads you to the door behind the bar, then opens it for you.  
  
The light of the kitchen is much brighter than the rest of the building has ever been, but the _smell_ is what really hits you. Mexican food, unmistakably, and it's almost enough to have you drooling already. Jackie's leaning against the counter next to the stove when you walk in, and he smiles wide as soon as he sees you. You mirror it, walking up to him when he gestures for you to come closer.  
  
"There you are, chico!" He pulls you into a quick, one-armed hug before turning to stir up whatever's currently steaming deliciously in the pot. He leans against the counter on his other hand, and heavily by the looks of it. You know that, if you looked, you'd see his knees shaking to hold him up. "Get that one off the stove for me?"  
  
You don't look, instead you smile and nod, grabbing a pot off the stove by the handles when Jackie nods at it. This one is smaller, though looks similar to what's in the bigger pot: a deep red colour wifh flecks of green herbs and some beans. This one looks like it has no meat in it, however. Misty's, you presume.  
  
You move towards a table in the corner of the room that looks like it was pulled in from the main bar, and set down the pot. Mama Welles walks in soon after, setting the table while you repeatedly offer to help, only to be politely ordered to sit down and _relax_. You try your best, but sitting around and doing essentially nothing makes you uneasy. Misty notices and keeps you company.  
  
As dinner is served and everyone begins to eat, conversation flows more freely, despite the fact that you spend most of the night shovelling food into your mouth because you severely underestimated your own hunger. Jackie is more talkative than he has been in... weeks, at this point, surely. It's reassuring; seeing as he'd been relatively quiet and unresponsive ever since the heist. Something about serving a meal for- for his _family_ makes him come alive, and you can't help but feel it's a good look on him, where the only stains on his clothes come from chilli, and the only injuries he bears are the result of a kitchen that isn't quite made for him to navigate through.  
  
After dinner, you pop open a few beers, Misty sitting out on the drinks and instead opting for soda. You can't remember when your eyelids started to droop, your head lean heavily against your hand, all you know is that you wake up to Mama Welles' hand on your shoulder as she laughs because when you pick your head up, a coaster is sruck to your cheek. You grin, it falls off, and you stand up.  
  
"Sorry, didn't realise how exhausted I was," You excuse yourself, stretching and popping all your joints loudly. Señora Welles has always hated when you do that, and she still makes a sound when you do it again.  
  
"Don't apologise, _chico tonto_ ," She mutters, pulling you along by the shoulder towards the entrance of the Coyote. "Now come, you're too tired to drive by yourself. Misty and Jaquito are already gone, so I'll drive."  
  
You open your mouth to argue, but she gives you a _look_ that has you chuckling and shutting up again. She ushers you to her car, fusses when you don't initially wear your seat belt, and starts playing the same playlist on the speakers as she always does. Acoustic guitars play quietly in the background, and you look at the rearview mirror to see Johnny's face for the first time that night. You expect him to say something, and you feel him getting ready to do so, only to apparently think otherwise. He smiles, and is gone when you blink.  
  
You're nearly unconscious again when you arrive at your apartment, but you manage to wake yourself up enough to lean over the centre console and hug Mama Welles goodbye. She kisses your cheek lightly before letting go, and you can still smell her perfume when you get in the elevator. You enter your apartment, toeing your boots off and giving Manny a soft pat on the forehead, along with a quiet _"hello handsome man."_  
  
"Hello to you, too," Johnny responds, sarcastic as always, and you glare at him halfheartedly. He's laying on your bed like he owns the damn place, boots on and everything. You know he can't exactly track dirt on the sheets, but it's the _principle_ of the thing.  
  
"Off. Tired," Is all you say as you stand at the side of your bed.  
  
"No. Comfy," Johnny responds, grinning like he thinks he's clever.  
  
"Fine."  
  
You turn and free-fall backwards onto your sheets, expecting the man to just cede defeat and give you your own damn bed back. Only, he doesn't do that, and you land rather uncomfortably halfway on top of him, his metal elbow jabbing your back painfully. He lets out an _oof_ at the impact, his other hand coming up to push you off of him by grabbing the back of your head and shoving.  
  
"'Least buy me dinner first, V," He tells you as you both laugh. You arrange yourself more comfortably on your side along the bed, and Johnny even has the decency to scoot over and give you more room to do so. Manny hops up with a little chirping meow, happily slotting himself between your back and Johnny's shoulder. Sometimes, the cat almost seems to be aware of the rockerboy's presence, like he can _see_ him. It never fails to make you feel like you're losing your mind.  
  
All is quiet, then, and you're about to _actually_ fall asleep for the first time in almost two days when Johnny's voice registers in your ears.  
  
"I think I... saw some more memories o' yours, back there."  
  
You sigh and turn to face him, though he's still on his back as he stares up at the ceiling.  
  
"Not surprised. Dinner _was_ pretty nostalgic."  
  
He hums, fingers drumming against his stomach as he thinks about it. You get the gist of whatever he'd seen from the few clearer thoughts of his that come through to you. You swallow what feels like bile.  
  
"Touchy subject?" Johnny butts in, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "I can think about tits or something if you'd prefer."  
  
You snort, rolling onto your back, hands resting behind your head.  
  
"Try asses," You tease back, earning yourself a chuckle from the rockstar. "But it's fine, really. Just Nomad family drama."  
  
"Feels like more than that, though." Johnny turns his head to look at you, his hand moving to pet Manny's warm skin as best he can. The cat flicks an ear, but doesn't react otherwise.  
  
You breathe in and out shakily, collecting yourself at the onslaught of pain that comes with remembering the things that you've always tried to forget.  
  
"It's just... my brother- he up and left, one night," You begin, and though Johnny most likely already knows, it feels important to tell him anyway. "Didn't say anything, didn't leave a note, just... was there one night, and gone the next. Only lead was the bike he took with 'im.  
  
"We waited for him to come back, but... well, obviously, he _didn't_. I wanted to go looking for him, figure out what was going on, try and- and bring him back _home_. Found his bike left in a ditch by the highway entrance to NC."  
  
You exhale a breath that threatens to burst into something more, but you reign yourself back in. Johnny's hand still moves soothingly against Manny's back, over his knobbly, little spine. He waits, and you don't understand why he _cares_.  
  
"Went back to camp to find everyone packing up, said we were leaving the next day. I asked them to wait, tried to get them to help me out, but my mother just said 'Snake Nation isn't gonna wait on us forever,' and that was that.  
  
"So they gave me, uh... a _choice_..." You feel your eyes watering, so you shut them tightly. "Stay with the family, but leave my brother behind, or- or leave _them_ and look for him, making me an outcast to the clan."  
  
Johnny sighs heavily to the side, and it's rather comforting to find that he's still there. There's... you think it might be pity, at first, but- no, it's _more_ than that. There's a pain in him that resonates with your own, and you recognise it as _empathy_.  
  
"Can guess which one you picked," He mumbles, and he sounds about as tired as you feel. You nod.  
  
"Yeah," You whisper. It's silent again, for a while, until it gives way to Johnny's voice once more.  
  
"Do you ever... regret it? Not goin' with 'em?"  
  
You inhale slowly, deeply, exhale evenly. You steel yourself and turn back onto your side and open your eyes to meet Johnny's gaze. He looks away at the intensity of your stare almost immediately, but something draws him back in.  
  
"Regret is for pussies," You answer seriously, just for the sake of hearing Johnny's surprised laughter. You grin, the tension in the air dissipating and leaving room for you to speak more freely. "I don't regret it, no."  
  
Johnny's smile falls away slowly, as if he's confused.  
  
"Even with...?" He gestures at his own temple, where the relic in your head is located.  
  
"Even with the chip," You assure him, and you can tell he hears the meaning behind the words loud and clear- that he heard them before you'd even said anything. You feel fear, both his and your own, then a tentative warmth that reaches out and settles on your hand, and you link your fingers together without thinking or looking away from each other.  
  
There is something unmistakable in the air between you, and yet equally as ineffable. It's shy and fragile, and you think it'll shatter if you speak, so you don't. You close your eyes, hold onto Johnny's hand tighter, and curl yourself around Manny before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, just expounding on my OC's backstory for the sake of feels.
> 
> But how are you guys finding this fic so far? Good? Bad? Should I keep going?
> 
> ALSO: V's first name is revealed, but you might be wondering as to why he goes by "V" at all, seeing as it's not in his name. That would be because it's the first letter of his *last name*.

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty short and kinda all over the place, but I just want to post it so I can see how it does and then decide if I wanna keep going, so feedback would be much much MUCH appreciated!!!!!


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